Maybe You're Not the Only One
by TutorGirlml
Summary: Emma just wants to a minute to process what she's lost. He simply can't watch her in pain though. He has to make sure she knows she's not alone. (Post 3x15 oneshot)


_Okay, so this was meant to be a "Quiet Minds" (3x15) post-ep, but I didn't have internet access this weekend to publish before 3x16. Hopefully you will still enjoy this and let me know what you think of it._

_As always, I don't own the show or any of the characters._

_Maybe You're Not the Only One_

_By: TutorGirlml_

She could hear his booted footsteps solid against the hardwood floor as soon as he entered the room. His presence behind her, obviously unsure of his next move once he had caught up to her, caused her every nerve ending to tingle in awareness, even as her irritation at the unwanted company skyrocketed. She should have slammed the door and locked it behind her the moment she got back to her rented room at Granny's – then she would at least be having this breakdown, or whatever she was experiencing, in private. Her hackles rose, and she knew her voice was anything but nice, cracking like a whip in the tense air between them. "Not now, Hook," she snapped before he could get any closer. "Just leave me alone."

A frustrated sigh huffed from Emma's mouth as she instead heard him moving closer again. When he made his own sound of annoyance at her resistance, she felt the heat from his exhaled breath on the back of her neck. "I _am _sorry, Emma," he stated quietly, his words truly apologetic, but also so _warm_, where she suddenly felt nothing but cold, despair, and anger inside.

Strengthening her resolve against the urge to cry on his shoulder, she put more bite than she felt into her next retort. "You really don't understand the meaning of 'go away', do you?" she questioned in exasperation, still refusing to turn and meet his eyes.

Instead, she felt a strong, grounding hand on her upper arm – not tight enough to hurt, but bracing and letting her know he was not going anywhere. "Look at me, Emma," he murmured solemnly, voice low and soothing, hand on her arm urging her to turn around. When she finally did, he stared right into her with that knowing azure gaze and added, "You don't have to be alone in this."

She blinked, trying to break contact, wishing she could keep distance between them, could keep him from seeing so deeply inside her soul and knowing all the secrets she wanted to keep hidden. "Why shouldn't I be alone? I caused this! I separated them! I didn't even let him see Henry before he died, didn't even want Henry to remember. All I could think about was getting out of here and back to our nice, normal life! So selfish! And- and now…"

Emma felt her face crumbling as tears tried to rise and overcome her. She jerked her arm from Hook's grasp and shook her head viciously, angry that she was clawing and fighting for control, and yet he was still going to see it when she lost her grip. "Please, can't you just – "

Her words were cut off and muffled in the leather of his jacket as her infuriating pirate shadow suddenly lunged forward and hauled her abruptly into his arms. She was crushed in his solid, tight embrace, squirming awkwardly away from his show of comfort. She wanted so desperately to fall into his sympathy, to let someone else soothe her for once instead of looking to her to fix all the problems. Once she let go, however, she feared she wouldn't be able to reel her swirling emotions back in.

"No," he finally breathed fervently, right at her ear. "I won't, Love. You won't be getting rid of me – not when you clearly need someone to tell you this _was not _your fault. How could Baelfire's death be the fault of anyone but that sodding green menace?"

Her breath was rasping harshly through her throat, giving away her distress clearly, no matter how she tried to hold herself together. "Hook – no – just stop…You don't know…you just…you don't…" She balled up a fist and struck out against his chest, fighting to get away from the tightening panic, knowing she was about to collapse if he wouldn't let her to escape.

He allowed her to strike him once, twice, but the third time she drew back, he caught her wrist firmly in his good hand, arresting her motion. "Stop, Emma," he commanded simply. His voice was still low and calm, but the tone raised the hair on the back of her neck, and it was clear how serious he was. "Please stop fighting me. Do you honestly think that you are the only one mourning him?"

The gasp that escaped her was enough to let him know his words had surprised her, jerking her out of her pain and self-blame. Her swirling, tormented eyes darted up to meet his and searched his deep, brooding stare. Now that she could see past her own grief, the hurt and guilt within Hook's gaze was plain. She knew suddenly that for Neal to have caught up to her in the woods, he must have convinced the pirate captain to let him leave the hospital, and she knew Hook was enough like her to blame himself as well.

His blue eyes, usually as clear and sparkling as the ocean waves, were clouded with roiling emotion, and the breath he drew in the silence between them as they studied each other was ragged and torn. The knot of tension that she had been using to hold herself together and push him back suddenly unfurled at the sight of a single tear rolling silently down his rough, unshaven cheek.

A sob broke loose, and suddenly her arms were locked around Hook as tightly as his were around her. She clung to him, holding on desperately hard. Crying with a harsh, wrenching abandon that would normally have embarrassed her, Emma felt freed to grieve at the sight of his sorrow. She tried to hold him just as securely, as if they could cry out the gaping, burning agony implanted by the theft of someone they had both loved and lost.

Emma didn't know how much time had passed when the hiccupping sobs ebbed and she pulled back fractionally to look up at him, hesitance in her bearing and on her face. She found that she had his shirt collar clutched in her hand tightly enough to have crushed and wrinkled the material. Her tears had dampened the fabric where she pressed her face into the shelter of the crook of his neck. Looking up vulnerably, trying to wipe what must be obvious tear tracks away, Emma was startled when she found nothing but understanding in Hook's expression. His empathy warmed the chill that had engulfed her since Neal breathed his last in her arms on the forest floor.

For once, she didn't want to run; she wanted to stay. More than that, she wanted to make sure Hook was alright as well. Not because she was the Savior, not because it was simply the right thing to do, but because she understood his loss, just as he had understood hers.

She reached up in some sort of awe to trace soft, wandering fingers across his strong, handsome visage. Peace momentarily transcended his weathered features as his eyes closed and he fleetingly leaned his face into her touch.

The open wound in her heart still ached. She didn't know what she would tell her son when his memories returned and he realized whom he had lost. Yet, the void was not yawning wide and all-consuming in her mind any longer. She was not alone in her suffering as she had thought she wanted to be.

Hook didn't pull away from her knowing caress, and she was pleasantly startled to discover that she didn't want him to.


End file.
